Don't touch
by Crinklybrownleaves
Summary: A short story based on episode 4.6, some time after Jean told Lucien not to touch her. I love this couple, really hope it all gets resolved soon! Please review if you have time.
**Author's note: not my characters, of course.**

 **This little piece takes place some hours after Jean told Lucien to stop touching her (!) in 4.6.**

 **A bit of me loves that she wants to do everything the right way, even when that's so hard. And a bit of me is cross with Lucien for wanting to have his cake and eat it too! But mostly I just want the whole thing resolved and Mei Lin to go away! Sorry...**

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Jean turned over in bed, frustrated that sleep would not come. She was bone tired with the strain of pretending life was normal, that she was just the doctor's housekeeper and receptionist, that she was efficient and practical and cheerful and...all the other things the world expected from her. In truth, she was broken. For days she had tried to make her body submit to her mind, and failed.

The person that she had always been, that upright and rather proper woman, would never fall for a married man. Yet she had done just that, and no matter how much she told herself she must stop loving him, she couldn't. She could make herself do her work, cook meals, be kind to Mei Lin even, but she couldn't seem to stop her body reacting when Lucien walked into the room.

Just catching his eye over dinner, or bending together to look in his appointments book, or even hearing his key in the door made her stomach contract with desire. A sharp pain of longing that she couldn't control or dismiss.

So this afternoon, when he went to tenderly touch her cheek as he thanked her, she finally broke. Sharply telling him not to touch her, she saw the hurt and love in his eyes, even as he acknowledged she was right. As tears threatened to spill down her cheeks she wanted to tell him she didn't mean it, she wanted to feel his hands on her, she wanted to feel truly alive as she did when he held her. But she could never have that again. And it wasn't fair.

Lying in bed in the dark, she yet again tried to accept that it was over. In her heart she had become his lover on that bus to Adelaide. Without words or even actions they had committed themselves to each other. But now the memory of the days and weeks following that bus journey was tainted by the knowledge that it was wrong, because he was married.

She thought that she had first loved his vulnerability, his brokenness, his tendency to drink too much and the air of grief that hung over him; in other words, the results of losing his wife and daughter. Later she'd loved his energy, his quick thinking, and of course his touch. Tactile as he was with almost everyone, she'd scarcely noticed the touch on her hand, or her back, at first. Now every contact made her breath catch and her heart skip a beat.

So the touching must stop, she told herself firmly. But she continued to love him.

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Lucien lay sleepless in the dark, his mind racing and his body frustrated. Jean had been right, of course. He was married to Mei Lin and that was that. And he could hardly bear to remember the hurt in Jean's eyes as she told him to stop.

For seventeen years he had searched for his wife, longing to find her, yet he had never really considered what would happen if he did. In the early years, they would have picked up their lives together and all would have been well, he was sure. Later, he just focussed on finding her, not thinking about their lives afterwards. And then when he was told she was dead, he had let himself think of a new life with his housekeeper.

Now, he realised he loved the idea of Mei Lin, he was pleased she'd survived, he loved telling her about their daughter, and reminiscing over the early days of their marriage. There was definitely a connection there.

But he loved Jean. He truly loved his beautiful Jean, and now he had broken her heart. He hadn't meant to, when he held her on the bus to Adelaide. He had given himself to her willingly that day, body and soul, even though they hadn't even kissed.

He thought he had loved her first for her fiery independence, determined to make her own living now her husband was dead, and for how she was prepared to speak her mind to Lucien when he needed it. He'd loved her when she'd grieved for Christopher and cried over her son. He loved her thoughtfulness, her clever mind, her trust... and her touch.

Less tactile than he was, Lucien treasured the times she'd reached out to him, a comforting hand on his shoulder, her hand reaching for his, a kiss on the top of his head. And now that was over. He realised he had been trying to keep Jean with him, keep her love and Mei Lin too. Duty and family bound him to Mei Lin, but he still hankered after Jean's loving touch. He ached when he saw her, and he ached when he didn't.

So he would do as Jean asked, though his heart fought against it. The touching would stop. But he would continue to love her.


End file.
